Dame Nellie Melba, whose name and fame was used to advertise gramophones

IT’S a rare winter that does not see a seasonably appropriate production of Puccini’s La bohème in London, and 2024/25 was no exception.

This depiction of life and death in the Paris of the Belle Époque was, yet again, a resounding Royal Opera House success as it has been since its first performance there in 1899 by the Australian opera star Dame Nellie Melba (1861-1931).

Having changed her birth name of Helen Mitchell in honour of her hometown of Melbourne, Nellie Melba became the undisputed star of her true artistic home at Covent Garden and her rendition of Mimi acknowledged as her outstanding role.

One critic wrote that when Melba sang the high C at the end of Act One: “It left Melba’s throat, it left Melba’s body, it left everything, and it came over like a star and passed us in our box and went out into the infinite. I have never heard anything like it in my life, not from any other singer, ever. It just rolled over the hall of Covent Garden. My God, how beautiful it was!”

She played the role many times and later appreciated having a tenor of Enrico Caruso’s class to play opposite her as Rudolfo. However, she was not so fond of Caruso’s earthy sense of humour. While singing the aria Your Tiny Hand is Frozen, at one performance he suddenly pressed a hot sausage into her hand.

With a squawk of surprise, she tossed the object away across the stage. Still singing, Caruso whispered insinuatingly during a breath-pause: “Eh, pretty lady, you lika da sausage?”

During another performance of La bohème, Melba became angry when the audience applauded Fraulein Fritzi Scheff, a young soprano playing the secondary role of Musetta. When Fritzi reached the climax of her Act Two appearance, her solo aria became a duet as Melba joined in from the wings. An incandescent Fritzi stormed off stage, tried to scratch Melba’s face, then broke down in hysterics.

With Fritzi now hors de combat, Melba compensated the audience for the disappearance of the last two acts by regaling them with an operatic selection including Home, Sweet Home.

As she became more famous Melba’s antics on stage could be embarrassing. Bernard Shaw told of one occasion when her superb performance as Desdemona in the deathbed scene in Otello drew a storm of applause from the audience. Melba rose from her deathbed and signalled for a piano to be trundled in from the wings.

Shaw explained: “She then accompanied herself for an encore by singing the hit Home, Sweet, Home with the audience joining in. When the ovation following the encore had died down, she collapsed again upon the bed and the unfortunate Othello was allowed to finish the act.”

Dame Nellie Melba in Faust

Melba came under criticism for her increasing weight exacerbated by her fondness for food and alcohol. Two new dishes, Melba Toast and Peach Melba, were created in her honour by the chef Escoffier.

Despite her iconic status some Antipodean newspapers launched attacks, accusing her of meanness and sexual misbehaviour. When a local critic gave her a foul review during her tour of New Zealand, Melba stormed into his editor’s office demanding that the critic be publicly thrashed.

The critic sent her a message agreeing to her demand providing that it take place in a public hall, that she herself should carry out the thrashing, and that he would receive the entire box office takings.

During the First World War, Melba plunged herself into fundraising and in recognition of her efforts in 1918 she was made a Dame Commander of the British Empire. During a welcoming speech the mayor of one Australian city kept referring to her as “Dame Melba”. Through gritted teeth she whispered that he should call her “Dame Nellie” (the correct address). He gave her a slow grin and a conspiratorial wink then whispered back: “Well, thanks, but isn’t that a bit intimate?”

For many years though she suffered a largely undeserved reputation as a drunk in her native state, particularly in the town of Ballarat. This canard was due to an event that followed her concert there.
The audience had been so overwhelmed by her performance that afterwards they trooped en masse to the street outside her hotel and, joined by other Ballarat citizens, began to thunder out the message: “We want Melba! We want Melba!”

Three Melbourne reporters also happened to be staying at the hotel and had spent the evening drinking whisky. Hearing the racket outside, one of them decided to take action. Slipping into a floral dressing gown and adjusting a toque-style towel on his head, he lurched tipsily out on to a balcony. Seeing what they assumed was Dame Nellie, the huge crowd roared out its approval but fell silent as the figure on the balcony raised its hand for silence.

Then after gazing round the expectant multitude, in a slurred falsetto voice “Dame Nellie” hiccupped: “Why don’t all of you bludgers piss off home and let me get some bloody peace!”

• Adapted from Neil Titley’s book The Oscar Wilde World of Gossip. www.wildetheatre.co.uk
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